The Sparrow Prologue
by PhoenixEternal
Summary: The full story of just how the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow came to be the pirate that he is now, including the origin of the Black Pearl and the mutiny that was led against him.


**AN**: OMG! A new fanfic to write! Through this story, I plan to explore and create the history of Jack Sparrow and just how he managed to get to where he is now, using any and all information that I can find. I plan on making it as accurate as possible, albeit with a few creative liberties. This story will go through how he managed to get the Pearl, the deal he made with Davy Jones, and the mutiny that Barbossa leads against him. I plan on having the last chapter end with Jack stranded on that island. But it could be a while before I get there.

A special thanks to Angel Rain and Irish Parselmouth, for whom I am specifically writing this. Angel Rain planted the idea, while Irish Parselmouth has lent a hand in the creation. Thanks so much to the both of you, and I hope you enjoy this!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters, although I most certainly wouldn't mind it.

And so it begins….

Chapter I: The Commission

"Oi, you! Sparrow!" The shout was accompanied by a cold splash from a grungy bucket. "Get yer arse up and get back to work! I ain't payin' you to lie around."

"You're hardly paying me at all…" The disgruntled youth muttered beneath his breath as he wiped the water from his face. The man with the bucket rolled his eyes in exasperation before heading off, grumbling.

The young Sparrow turned onto his side to face the girl that lay besides him. She was already sitting up and re-lacing her lowly-cut bodice. "Sorry, love. You heard the man. He doesn't pay me, I can't pay you."

"Same time tomorrow, Jacky?" She asked as she got to her feet, straightening out her skirts. With mild disgust, she pulled a bit of hay from her tasseled blonde hair.

Jack gave a devilish smile. "Of course, Charlotte."

The girl scowled at him darkly, penciled eyebrows narrowing together in offense. "Its Michelle."

It took Jack a moment to realize his mistake. "Oh. Right. Of course you are. Sincerest apologies…" As he said it, he leaned towards her for a kiss. But instead of her lips meeting him, it was the palm of her hand as she slapped him smartly across the face.

"Hmmf." She snorted in satisfaction. And with a final glare and an adjustment of her bodice, she turned on her heal and stormed off.

With a slightly deflated look, Jack stood up and absentmindedly scratched the back of his head through his dark scraggly hair. "Might have actually deserved that one…" He mumbled to himself as he wrung the water out of his opened shirt.

Begrudgingly, he made his way from the dingy back storage room and out into a dingy small storefront. The room was dimly lit and cluttered with an assortment of odds and ends; anything and everything a sailor could ever need. At least that's what the sign said. But they would first have to find it in the disorganized mess that was the infamous Scurvy Trader.

Jack moved the old fish netting that hung from the ceiling as he walked towards the front with a slight swagger. Viktor Scurgent, more commonly referred to as just 'Scurge', was the owner of such a fine establishment, and could be found drumming his fingers upon the aged counter top.

"What'd ya do this time, boy?" Scurge demanded of him.

"Pertaining to exactly what matter?" Jack clarified with narrowed eyes.

Scurge gave a short chuckle. "Why, the girl, o' course! She left here all in a hurried state. You didn't forget her name again, didja?"

"Of course I didn't forget it!" Jack cried out in defense. But then a smirk crept its way onto the corners of his mouth. "I merely confused it with someone else's…"

Scurge slapped his knee and laughed again. "I don't know how you do it, Jack. Any other man and she'd no doubtedly be long gone."

"Well, she's left, did she not?" Jack grumbled as he rubbed his still-stinging cheek.

"Aye, that she did. But she also told me to tell ya that she'd be seein' ya again tomorrow." The aged man said, humor glinting in his eyes. "Lucky though you may be, Jacky, that loose belt of yours is going to get you into trouble one day."

At this, Jack gave a mischievous sort of smile. He opened his mouth to make a snide retort, but Scurge held up a callused hand. "Whatever ya've got to say, I don't want ter hear it. Now listen. There's a crate up front that needs to be delivered down to the Rusted Kettle. Bring it down and get back here within the hour, else you're mine for the night. These boards could do with a good scrubbin'."

Jack looked down at the weathered and warped boards that made up the floor of the shop. 'Scrubbing' was not the word. "Whether I bring that crate down or not, you know as well as I do that I'm not coming back here until I'm due in the morning."

Scurge gave a knowing nod. "Aye, that's what I fig'red. That's why there's a shilling in it for ya if you come back. That's enough to give ya a good enough night in Tortuga."

"Enough for a few pints at least." Jack had to admit.

Scurge made his way out from behind the counter and clapped Jack on the back. "Jus' bring that crate down first, a'right? I need to head down to the docks for a mo', but I'll be back in time to give you yer share."

"Yes, sir." Jack said, giving a mock salute as Scurge propped the rickety door open with a conch shell.

"I'll have you fix this door sometime, too. Creaking's driving me bloody mad." He mumbled as he moved away. As soon as he was gone, Jack found the box in question.

"You are my ticket to a bottle of the Caribbean's finest tonight." Jack said, as he bent down to hoist up the wooden crate.

It didn't budge.

Grumbling, Jack tried it again from another angle. Again, it remained firmly placed on the dirt ground.

"Bugger, what's in you?" He asked in frustration. Finding a handy crowbar nearby, he managed to pop off the lid with a few good pries. The contents inside were revealed to be pound upon pound of processed sugar cane. Jack hefted out one of the 10-lb sacks and glared at it. Surely there was no way he was supposed to carry a crate full of these! He realized that Scurge had probably known that too.

"Bloody git…" He swore at his employer. "Take the crate for a shilling my arse."

But then, Jack had a sudden bout of ingenious inspiration. He had only been told to take the _crate_. That didn't necessarily apply to everything that it contained… Jack flashed a smile at his own cleverness and began to unload the bags of sugar.

"I see you've had dealings with the plantations, then." Said a voice from behind him unexpectedly.

Jack immediately spun around, wielding a bag of sugar in his defense. …It slumped forward pathetically. The man who had spoken looked at him with raised eyebrows and a bemused expression. Realizing it was simply a customer and not a threatening intruder, Jack lowered his mighty weapon back into the now half-empty crate. He flashed a quick apologetic and embarrassed grin. "Erm…Can I help you?"

"The plantations. Have you had dealings with them?" The man asked of him again. Jack noticed that his appearance was not one of the standard Tortuga sailor, but couldn't quite place what it was about him. Perhaps it was the powdered wig, polished shoes, and pressed jacket with the East India Trading Company logo embroidered onto it in gold. Or it could have just been his height…the man was rather short. Jack could only wonder what business he had here.

"Well, I er, haven't had any _personal_ dealings with them…" Jack eluded, refraining from adding that he really only stocked the shelves. "However, I have been on the other end of a few, er, business transactions…" 'Other end' hereby having the meaning of unloading cargo from a ship.

The man seemed far more interested in this answer then Jack would have assumed. "Ah, yes. I know just what you mean. You see, I myself, Mr…?"

"Scurgent." Jack lied automatically, though unsure of as to why. "Viktor Scurgent."

"Mr. Scurgent, then." The shorter, unknown man said with a nod. "I, too, have set up a few of said business transactions. More than a few, actually. It seems that I have organized more commissions then I have sailors to hand them out to."

Jack made a noncommittal sound and gave what he thought would come off as an understanding nod.

"Tell me, _Viktor_, if I may. Are you a sailor?"

"Me? O' course I am. Whole family's been. Dad, brother, grandfather, cousin, uncle…The whole lot of 'em." Well, the bit about his family was true, they had all spent their lives upon the seas. Jack, however, hadn't been so fortunate to be granted with true sailing experience. Not to say he had never been on a ship: he had loaded and unloaded dozens of them. "Erm…why do you ask?"

"It just so happens that I have come to Tortuga in search of a few young men with exactly your history. Experience with the plantations, the seas, and cargo," he indicated the crate of sugar before him. "What would you say if I were to offer you one of those extra commissions?"

At these words, Jack's jaw hung open and he searched for words to say. Commissioned as an actual sailor? It was something he had been attempting to achieve for years now, and it was just going to be offered to him this easily, through lies to a stranger? Jack could have grinned were he not in shock. Finally he found his voice. "And what exactly would an offer such as this entail?"

"A full commission as a privateer within the ranks of the East India Trading Company. You'd be given your own ship and crew, a generous share of all earnings made, and all that is required of you is the transporting of a bit of cargo." The man gave a smile that didn't quite match the gleam in his eye. But Jack took no notice of that. "What do you say to that, Mr. Scurgent? Or should I say 'Captain'?"

_Captain…._ Jack liked the sound of that.

"Tell you what. I have a bit more business to attend to while in port. Think about my offer. If you accept, meet me down at the docks tonight at seven. Your ship will be waiting for you." With that, the man turned towards the door to leave, while Jack was stunned to silence. Just as the man stepped out, Jack called out to him.

"Who are you?"

Turning back to look at him with a simple flash of a smile, he answered. "Cutler Beckett. I expect to be seeing you shortly, Captain."

**AN**: Wee!!! I'm soo excited! This is the first full length fanfic that I've started in a while. Since my Harry Potter one is ceasing to continue, I've decided to move on to the wonderful world of pirates. The life of Jack is an amazing thing to be able to explore and create. I'm so up for it! As long as you all out there are up for reading it. :D Have fun, enjoy.

Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!


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